Tronex wears a black bunny mask from his early days, and his spinning is on fire. With people crammed into every inch of space and dancing wildly, the temperature inside the house has risen ten degrees. The organizers should turn off the space heaters.
Ash says sagely, “They won’t. The heat encourages people to lose their clothes.”
By midnight, half the men are shirtless and a third of the women have stripped down to their bras, some even to bras and panties as though their lingerie is a bikini. Wearing masks squashes our inhibitions.
To quench my thirst, I slip off the dance floor to drink a Virgin Cape Cod. Ash, a seasoned party girl, drinks real cocktails while dancing erratically. I guess she manages to not spill her drinks because she downs half the cocktail before coming back onto the floor. For some reason, every time she bumps into me, I can’t stop laughing.
To add to the wild atmosphere, a pair of young women spray paint that glows in the black light. Most of us have some paint decorating our skin. We blend together and into the walls. It makes me feel insulated and more a part of the college community than anything else has.
Two guys in emoji-print hoodies sell designer pills to people. Ash and I avoid the free-flowing drugs. Because of my bio mom, I find those about as appealing as a traumatic brain injury. The house’s frenetic energy is fun, though, and for once, I understand the appeal.
Jamie and the other guys who are part of the security force wear Batman masks and black shirts with a silver barbed C on the chest. The sinister logo fascinates me, but I keep my distance. Jamie’s eyes constantly scan the room, but we must be unrecognizable because his gaze never lingers.
At twelve-thirty, on the stairs to the right of the DJ stand, a couple has sex with no interference from the security force. People cheer them on loudly and encourage more groping. A girl removes her bra, and her boyfriend splashes his drink on her breasts, so he can lick it off.
The mayhem intensifies.
Guys have been grabbing us all night, sometimes to avoid falling over in the crush of bodies, sometimes just to touch us. We take it in stride, pushing them away with a laugh and centering ourselves in packs of girls.
When I head to stand guard as Ash uses one of the bathrooms, Jamie appears in the hall. He stalks down the line of women before stopping in front of me.
Without warning, he grabs my wrists, pulls my arms over my head and pins me to the wall. My gasp can’t be heard over the music as he leans down and kisses me, crushing my body with his.
His cherry Coke-flavored mouth tastes sweet. With a hammering heart, I open to the brutal kiss. Through a haze of adrenaline and lust, I slide my thigh forward to stroke his groin. He raises his head and moves his mouth to my ear.
“Go ahead.” His voice is a snarl, and one hand drops to pinch my nipple. “Dare me to fuck you against this wall. See what happens.”
I should resist. Or possibly apologize. But wild rebellion and the need to be close to him win out. I don’t pull my leg back. Instead, my back arches, pressing my breast, bare beneath the satin, into his hand.
A crashing sound causes his head to jerk in the direction of the main room. “I’m not done with you.” He turns and stalks away, leaving me breathless.
The girls in the line gape at me. The one standing next to me asks, “Do you know him?”
I nod. Thankfully, Ash emerges from the bathroom before more conversation breaks out. She loops her arm through mine and tugs me back toward the party.
Everything appears in order, so the source of the crashing sound must have been people falling down. There’s an entire group of drugged and dazed partygoers sitting against a far wall, swaying like they’re listening to Enya rather than Tronex’s driving beats.
Our spot close to the stage has been claimed. Without making eye contact with Jamie, I follow Ash and melt into the crowd on the dance floor.
We cheer Tronex on when he plays his new tracks, shaking our fists in the air as we jump up and down. Then, my favorite track,Burn Down, comes on and I lose my mind, yelling to Ash that it’s my theme song.
I don’t so much sing as shout the lyrics, lost in the moment. All those lonely days and nights that tore me down and made me feel broken—that made me wonder if a bonfire might not be the best thing that could happen to my life. And now, feeling the opposite emotions. It’s cathartic beyond belief.
As the song winds down, I throw my arm around Ash’s shoulders, and we dance together. Even under her heavy makeup, I can see her face’s happy flush. Mine must be the same.
When a tall guy in a wolverine mask stops in front of us, at first I think it’s to flirt. Then I clock the rage in his eyes and a second later recognize them and the small mole above the corner of his mouth. It’s my pseudo brother, Brad.
“Sawyer,” he snarls, grabbing my face.
I break his grip, but when my chin slips free, he grabs my arm and rips the mermaid wig off, tearing pins from their positions in my real hair. My gasp rings out as he shoves my mask halfway up my forehead and raises his phone.
I recoil but can’t free myself in time. He’s shooting video of my face, with its smeared makeup and disheveled sweaty hair framing it, along with the bodice of the slip dress where my breasts are partially exposed by the plunging neckline and whisper-thin fabric.
Ash’s slim fingers snatch the phone and dislodge it from his grasp.
Brad turns and grabs her, but she twists away and focuses on the phone, clearly trying to delete what he’s captured. As he wraps an arm around her throat from behind, he drags her backward, knocking into people. I claw his arm, trying in vain to get him to release her.
Then, suddenly, we’re not alone. Bodies go flying as War shoves people out of his way. His massive hand grabs Brad’s throat, and Jamie appears and shoves me behind him.
